


cardinal

by cosywoo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Oral Sex, bad alcohol, specifically a blowjob in a supply closet at a christmas party, trans seonghwa (mtf)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosywoo/pseuds/cosywoo
Summary: “Please come tonight. I have something for you.”Yunho snorts at that, taken aback when she looks at him with dead seriousness. “Hwaseong, you didn’t have to do that. I don’t have anything for you,” he says softly, watching her comb through the lengths of her hair with her fingers.“Gift me with your presence. You’re my favourite printer fixer,” Hwaseong says very sincerely, smiling up at him and pinching his cheek. “Are you going to make me happy? It’s Christmas. Please me.”
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	cardinal

**Author's Note:**

> merry merry! this was supposed to be a 2-chapter ordeal but alas... i'm lazy. if i get it finished it'll be after christmas skfsldf. hope ur all doing well, have a good 2021 if i don't see upload before then!

The fluorescent light above Wooyoung’s desk has been blinking for three days in a row. It wouldn’t be Yunho’s problem at all if he was facing the other way, like he had been for the first eight months of his employment in the office, but last week’s stroke of feng shui has doomed him to stare at steady flickering until someone grows up and complains about it. Which probably won’t happen, not this side of the holidays.

It says a lot that his spreadsheet has remained mostly untouched since Monday and no one’s been on his ass about needing anything finished. Everyone’s been coming and going in handfuls, making excuses for their respective holidays. The red haired girl down by the busted water cooler has loudly spoken about her neighbour’s dog being ‘so very, violently ill’ throughout every day of Hanukkah before leaving at midday for ‘very serious pet emergencies’. Which he doesn’t have a problem with, but he yearns for her to come up with an excuse beyond dog shits.

The pre-Christmas, post-any real serious deadlines lull is a hypnotic one. He’s been dipping steadily into his stash of Hershey’s kisses, accumulated over Black Friday and Cyber Monday binging. He’s been good about saving them, but the comatose atmosphere of the building has him struggling to stay upright.

The slow pull of the elevator doors draws his attention, he ducks behind what he’s dubbed his ‘holiday branch’ when he sees the gold and red tinsel of an antler headband. He unwraps another kiss, staring intently at his barren Microsoft Excel spreadsheet until the tinkling of bells trails away down the hall. The tinsel on his monitor blocks the digital clock, but he’s guessing it’s not near the end of the day. The universe isn’t that kind to him.

An email comes through from Wooyoung, even if she’s within whisper-shouting distance. It’s probably something awful. She’s probably sending him hardcore porn again, something that’s gonna autoplay on loud and make everyone think of him as a sexual deviant.

**Wooyoung**

_ to me _

you’re avoiding her aren’t you!!!

Yunho narrows his eyes, meerkatting over the desk divider and glaring horizontally at Wooyoung’s crushed velvet Santa hat. She lets out a shriek of a laugh, takes an audible sip of her hot chocolate. He’s being played.

**Me**

_ to Wooyoung _

No?? My back still hurts from carrying this floor through the last quarter, spare me some mercy bitch

**Wooyoung**

_ to me _

you want those hot cross buns, don’t lie. she’s going tonight, dress up saint dick

“Hey,” he hisses, motioning for her to come to his side of the desk when she cackles. It’s dead slow and even quieter. He’s half sure Hyunjin’s asleep. “Fucking- I’m not trying to do shit tonight. I don’t even know if I’m coming.”

“Oh my god, you pussy,” Wooyoung frowns, leaning against the edge of his desk and resting her palms close to his collection of penguin and polar bear figurines. “You’re coming, and you’re cumming. She’s into you! Make a move!”

“Where’s your proof?”

“She looks at you like you’re made of caramel.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“She does, it’s in the eyelids. She does that slow blink and that thing with her lips, it’s porn.”

“Who are we talking about?” San pokes his head out from the end desk, the one in between them empty after Mingi ducked out to get chow mein yesterday and never came back. Yunho groans.

“Hwaseong,” Wooyoung grins, moving to settle in Mingi’s chair and resting her feet up on his crowded desk, avoiding his little Christmas tree. “Receptionist, the one who looks like she’s painfully in love.”

San gasps and slams his hand down on the desk, pointing violently at Yunho. “Yes! Go for it! You’d be hot together. She’d be hot with anyone. I’d turn for her.”

“You’re both the worst. I’m dying. I’m not going tonight with the sole intent of hooking up, that’s trashy,” Yunho huffs, pulling his dollar store Santa hat off to rub at the indentation it’s left on his head. “What’re you guys doing after, anyway? I might join you at a bar or something.”

Returning to the office for four hours of drinking mulled wine and eating cold Domino’s pizza with a bunch of co-workers he’s met maybe five times is maybe the most depressing thing he can imagine. Working in IT means he only really gets to talk to eleven other people for most of the week, and then he gets to march his way down to Finance to knock on a few overheated computers when they power down. It’s boring, and nobody knows him. He’s starting to look very much like The IT Guy.

“No, you’re coming. Just for a few hours, show up late and drink some free booze. Enjoy yourself,” Wooyoung tuts, planting a hand on Yunho’s head and nodding it emphatically on his behalf. “Yes, we’ll all have a good time at the staff party, and no one will get pregnant this time.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” Hwaseong’s voice comes from behind Yunho, her hands clasp over his ears. Wooyoung gets a dangerous look in her eye, dropping her hand to squeeze his knee. “Are we having a party right here? What’s going on? I’m so bored.”

“Yunho’s thinking of not coming tonight,” San rats him out before Wooyoung has a chance, disappearing back behind his desk when Hwaseong gasps, pulling on Yunho’s earlobes.

“No! You have to come, everyone needs to meet my favourite computer man,” Hwaseong complains, he can hear the pout in her tone. Her hands move down to squeeze his shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “I need you. I’m having an emergency. Come and save me, thank you.”

She doesn’t give him much of an option, squeezing her fingers around his throat until he’s moving to stand. She’s had her nails done, glitzy blue and long. “What is it?” he asks, comfortably taller than her despite the best efforts of her black pumps. She hooks a hand in the pocket of his jeans, leading him away from his desk and towards the elevator. “Hwaseong.”

“My printer isn’t printing. And don’t tell me it’s the ink again, because it tells me there’s an issue with connecting, and I haven’t touched anything,” Hwaseong talks at him, jabbing at the elevator button until the doors open. Her antlers jingle with her efforts. “It hates me. I hate asking-”

“No you don’t.”

“But I need to print things for after New Year’s, and I’m going to be swamped if I have to wait for that monster to start up,” she finishes, straightening out her bangs in the elevator mirror and leaving the responsibility of the button pressing to Yunho. She’s wrapped tinsel over the leather belt at her waist, red and silver over the black of her dress. “Please come tonight. I have something for you.”

Yunho snorts at that, taken aback when she looks at him with dead seriousness. “Hwaseong, you didn’t have to do that. I don’t have anything for you,” he says softly, watching her comb through the lengths of her hair with her fingers.

“Gift me with your presence. You’re my favourite printer fixer,” Hwaseong says very sincerely, smiling up at him and pinching his cheek. “Are you going to make me happy? It’s Christmas. Please me.”

“Alright. Only for you,” he gives in, moving to press a kiss to the side of her palm as she purrs. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Hwaseong grins, kicking at his ankles and stepping out into the empty foyer. “I know, you’re very sour about everything. I follow your Twitter, you get so miffed about things. What was it you were complaining about last week? That moth meme?”

The front desk is by far the most intensely decorated area of the building, complete with a seven foot artificial tree that Yunho had a hand in helping decorate. Which equated to him holding Hwaseong’s stepladder steady as she balanced baubles and wicker reindeer from the top branches, then holding her legs when she pondered over which angel looked better overall for the better part of twenty minutes. It was worth it. A month in, and the tree still looks perfect.

She’s done a great job of adding to her desk through the weeks, his favourite is the assortment of music boxes and snow globes she’s stacked up next to her printer, which is whirring happily. “I’m not sour, I’m just being honest. Unlike you. That printer is fine.”

Hwaseong leans against the desk, her hands smudging the clear glass as it squeaks against her sinking fingers, her hips sway idly. “Is it?” she asks, watching Yunho settle in her cushy office chair and open a new tab to print something. “It told me it wouldn’t print. There wasn’t a connection.”

Maybe the holidays are turning him crazy, but Yunho swears she’s doing that eyelid thing Wooyoung mentioned earlier, looking at him like… well. He won’t let himself entertain the thoughts, not when she’s right in front of him and very much watching him. He prints a picture of a cat. It prints. He looks up at her. “Hwaseong.”

“Yes, Yunho?”

“There’s a connection.”

“Wow, would you look at that. Looks like there’s been a connection the whole time,” Hwaseong hums, perching her chin on her hand, her little breasts pressing together so he can see cleavage through the sheer black material. She’s wicked. “Either that, or you’ve fixed it. Thank you, Yunho. My Christmas miracle.”

Save for the traffic outside, the foyer is silent from it’s usual bustle. Most people are gone by now, just a few finance employees making last minute changes, half the IT department, and Hwaseong. Dependable, sweet Hwaseong. “I’m always happy to help. Is there anything else you want me to take a look at, now that I’m here?” Yunho asks, closing the Google Images tab and minimising Chrome before he can catch any emails. Hwaseong’s nails tap steadily against the heavy glass. He’s half convinced she’s started early on the mulled wine.

“I can think of a few things,” Hwaseong purrs as her eyes gleam, she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. He’s due to clock out any minute now, which means she probably is too, he hopes. “It can wait. What are you wearing tonight? Dress up.”

Yunho deflates, groaning and rubbing over his eyes. “I don’t know, probably something I picked out at H&M?” he tries, glad when Hwaseong doesn’t immediately complain about it. “Why are you concerned with what I’m going to wear?”

“It’s important. You’re my printer man, and if I’m going to be introducing you as such, I don’t want you looking like one of those awful… Big Bang thingy men. You know?” Hwaseong says, making her way around her desk and leaning back until her ass pushes her keyboard back. “Do you have my number? Text me pictures. Go with red. A nice red would look good for you.”

“Are you critiquing my outfit before it’s even been put together?”

“Yunho, I’ve seen your outfits almost every day for months. I know what works for you. Red, with a jacket. That nice pair of black jeans, the ones that make your ass look like it belongs on a statue.”

He’s in an Uber on the way back into work when Hwaseong tells him about how busy it is. It’s a strategic move, she’s been promising him it’s boring and very bland while congratulating him on his outfit, and it’s too late now he’s sent her a picture of traffic. He calls her, she hangs up and sends an automated ‘Sorry, I can’t talk right now.’

He can imagine her laughing about it, always just above him, keeping him wrapped. It’s working. He gives his driver five stars for the quiet and the lack of Christmas music, scrambling out of the car and jogging across the road to get inside. It’s busy as hell, he has to dodge a taxi when it speeds up, hopping onto the pavement like a disgruntled pigeon.

Hwaseong’s stood beneath the birch tree outside the building, twinkling under the scattered yellow lights in its branches. She’s wearing silver glitter, hemmed with thick white fur and paired with a belt that nips her tiny waist.

“Waiting for someone?” Yunho grins, laughing when she almost drops her cigarette. Her heels scrape against the concrete, she leans into him for a hug. She smells like smoke and spirit. “You want my jacket? It’s cold.”

“I’m fine, I only need this one and I’ll go back in,” Hwaseong insists, doesn’t push his blazer away when it’s draped over her shoulders, tucked carefully beneath her hair, curled and bouncy. “I did a good job. Everyone’s telling me.”

Hwaseong’s been in charge of planning this year. Self-appointed, by the sound of things. Yunho’s heard the horror stories of years past, cookie decorating and karaoke. No wonder she was so insistent with her little multiple choice ballots through November, not to mention the emails. He kisses her hair. “Yeah, you’ve done an amazing job.”

“You haven’t seen it yet,” she prods his side with her elbow, still pointy through the cushion of thick sequins. She takes a final drag of her cigarette before dropping it in the nearest drain, exhaling into his shoulder.

“I know. But I know you, and I know what you’re like,” he says softly, wrapping an arm around her waist and squeezing her close. “How much have you been drinking?”

“So much,” Hwaseong groans, pressing her face close against Yunho’s sweater, enough that it’ll leave a mark, if he’s lucky. “My poor nerves are in shreds. I’m putting myself in an early grave for Christmas.”

Yunho hums softly, guiding them both towards the office doors when she seems steady enough to follow. “You relax, okay? You work harder than anyone in there, you deserve to party more than they do,” he says earnestly, pushing the door open with his arm and puffing at the heat in the building. “Hwaseong. Promise me you’re going to have a good time.”

He lets go of Hwaseong’s waist, only to hold her biceps and give her a pointed look, not breaking when she giggles. Her nose is flushed pink. “If you stay with me,” she bargains, resting her hands on his chest, blinking slowly. George Michael is crooning just beyond the doors to the cafeteria. “I’ll be good. I promise to have nice time. You promise, now.”

“Alright, fair trade,” he gives, watching her lips curve to a full smile, shiny, cardinal red. If he was smarter, he would’ve chanced mistletoe. “Come on, party girl. I wanna see what you’ve done with the place.”

Hwaseong leans close, pressing a kiss to his chin and wiggling out of his grasp. “Find me later, I have a present for you. Have a nice time! Drink. Drink lots, it’s on the company card,” she beams, slipping away from him and skipping towards the doors. She’s still got his jacket around her shoulders, swamping her little frame.

God, he’s smitten.

Yunho heads through after a quick check of his reflection in the glass door, hesitant to wipe her glossy lip print away but making do with smudging it. At least it looks like he’s tried. He’s only really here to humour people and get drunk until Hwaseong’s pleased enough with his mingling efforts.

She’s done a pretty glorious job of decorating, all things considered. It’s not too over the top, mostly just her signature gold tinsel and white fairy light combos, but there’s a long table spanning most of the left wall full of plates and bowls and bottles. He makes a beeline to what looks like some nightmare cocktail, sitting bright blue in its plastic prison, beside a neat tinsel tree.

“Careful,” Yeosang warns him when he’s already half filled a clear cup, even though he’s holding another with the same turquoise liquid. “This shit’s lethal. I think someone snuck absinthe in it.”

Yunho snorts, taking an experimental sip and filling his cup to the brim when it sets his chest on fire, laughing when Yeosang giggles warmly. “Jesus, fuck. That’s house party level,” he admires, hasn’t tasted anything that violent since he was twenty one and drinking to pass out after graduation. “Who-”

“Hwaseong, probably. I think she just bled into that bowl and served it,” he laughs, Yunho’s cheeks heat up. Can’t go a solid five minutes without thinking about her in some way. He’s been sentenced to a night in Hwaseong prison. “Speaking of which, am I hearing rumours about you and her?”

“Oh my god,” Yunho turns his attention to a plate stacked with mostly untouched vegetables, picking a carrot stick up and jabbing at the pot of hummus. His old personal trainer would be proud of his choices. “I don’t know, Yeosang. Are you?”

He’s only spoken to Yeosang a handful of times, he’s head of HR and they tend to favour San over the rest of the IT team. But he’s been kind to him in the few times he’s been down there, if a little too tuned into gossip. And judging by the look on his face, he knows he’s on to something. Yunho takes a loud bite of carrot.

“You know she’s campaigning to fuck you tonight, right?”

He chokes.

Yeosang looks proud as punch, squeezing his arm and patting his shoulder. “She’s- you’re playing sneaky, Yeosang, and it’s not- she’s not doing that!” he tries, laughing bashfully when he looks right through him, drinking a large mouthful of his cup of drain cleaner. “Look, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think she’s gorgeous. And exactly my type. But hooking up at the office party is a little predictable, and I’m-”

“Are you trying to find reasons to  _ not _ hook up with Hwaseong?” Yeosang challenges him, watching through hawk eyes as he picks up a stick of celery to throw her off. He glances over when he sees a flash of red hair, making desperate eye contact with Jongho and scooping more dip. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if she wasn’t my friend, Yunho. You’re a good man. Jongho, tell Yunho he should make a move on Hwaseong.”

“Oh my god! Yes!” Jongho rests a hand in the centre of his back. He blushes hard. He’s got two exhaustingly enthused managers as his wingmen, and he can’t see any of his own department to save him. “You’d be good together. She’s cute!”

He eats his celery in two bites. His trainer would be less proud of that, and of the large swig of drink he takes after. “I really don’t think she’s interested,” he says softly, startling when Yeosang and Jongho jab him in unison. “I don’t! I think she sees me as more of a friend, y’know? Or a brother?”

“You’re an idiot,” Jongho tells him kindly, only deflating him for a moment. He takes a sip of wine as he pats Yunho’s wounded ego. “She’s definitely interested, Yunho. How many people have told you that?”

“A few. Well. A lot,” he admits after considering it. His whole department have told him at one point or another, and Yeosang, and Jongho. And Soobin, more than once. And Yeonjun, on his third day in sales training. Well, Yeonjun technically didn’t – he thought they were already hooking up. “What do I do?”

Yeosang peers at him like he’s joking, turning to the window and breathing deeply. Okay, yeah, Yunho’s been really stupid, fine, sure, but it’s not his fault that Hwaseong’s like the forbidden fruit right at the top of a tree that was out of his league in the first place. “You go to her, Yunho. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And you keep flirting.”

“What do you mean, ‘keep’? I haven’t been flirting with her yet.”

They both gape at him. He steps back, there’s no point. “You  _ haven’t _ been flirting? She’s wearing your jacket, and you’re wearing her lipgloss on your face, and you  _ haven’t been flirting _ , Yunho?”

Even Jongho looks impressed at his incompetence. “Okay, fair enough, I’ll keep on keeping on. She wants me to be chatty, I’m gonna go walk around. Thank you, both of you!” Yunho excuses himself, turning on his heels and avoiding large groups of people, finding solace in a corner table that has apparently been deemed the hot spot for abandoned cups.

He finishes his drink by the time they’re playing Michael Buble, smiling awkwardly at passers-by until Hongjoong takes pity on him, inviting him over with a few playful looks. All the managers are taking him under wing tonight, apparently.

“You look great,” he smiles, laughing when she pulls him in to slow dance. He’s glad of her (lack of) height, finds himself leaning on her like a crutch. He chances a look around the room, spots Hwaseong and watches her watching him. She’s still got his jacket on, smiling with her teeth and looking away after a good few seconds. Hongjoong’s being very patient with him. “What, no compliment for the IT guy?”

“Oh, that’s what you were waiting for, huh,” Hongjoong teases, patting the side of his face and smiling at him when he blushes. He’s very red faced tonight, thinks maybe it was a kindness of Hwaseong to suggest his close to maroon cashmere. “I like your sweater. Very soft. You dress better than the guy you replaced. Dance better, too.”

“That bad, huh?” Yunho raises a brow, warming when Hongjoong laughs with him, twirling her clumsily and letting her respond in kind. “Wish I was here last year. I hear DJ JYP was a riot.”

Her groan says it all, she pats the side of his hip and sways with him aimlessly. It’s nice having a manager who isn’t overtly nasty, especially when she’s been so maternal about ‘his first big IT job’. “JYP was the straw that broke the camel’s back. We lost half a floor after those beats,” she says solemnly, tucks her head over his shoulder. He shouldn’t take it as an opportunity. But he does.

Hwaseong’s gone from where she was stood near the doors, and he can’t seem to see her anywhere else. Shit. He’s blown it. “I can imagine,” he sighs softly, not moving when Joni Mitchell’s River blends into a cover of Santa Baby, glad of Hongjoong’s lack of haste to move. “Like, him of all people? I’d rather listen to a murder scene. Who let that happen?”

“JYP did,” Hongjoong hums, patting the back of Yunho’s head before standing up a little taller, easily matching the height of the middle of his chest with the help of her heels. “Don’t drink any more of that cocktail, handsome. I think it stunts growth.”

It’s not completely impossible, all things considered. “Uh huh, I’ll stay away from it. What’s the verdict on the mulled wine?” he tries, told by the look on her face that it’s not much better. “Well. Thank god there’s a bar down the block.”

“You have a good night, Yunho,” Hongjoong says kindly, letting him kiss her hand intently. “Happy holidays, you. I’ll see you soon, you take care.”

“You too, ma’am. Have a good vacation,” he smiles, swerving between bodies to make his way to the doors to stand and wait for a glimpse of her again. He checks his phone. There’s nothing. One slow dance with his manager and he’s flushed his chance with his dream woman.

He sulks beside the doorframe, moving to peer through the glass every handful of minutes, walking across to get another drink after two more songs. His hands need something to do other than hold his phone and pine over Hwaseong’s last text. At least there are no more managers to fuss over his cup of gin and gasoline.

Somehow it’s even worse the second time. “What are you doing?”

Yunho turns to lock eyes with Wooyoung, swallowing his second mouthful and blinking. “What?”

Wooyoung is dressed in a very loud green dress, holding three cups between her hands and popping her hip like Yunho’s doing something actively wrong. “Have you spoken to anyone tonight, you idiot?” she asks, setting two cups down on the table and swirling the contents of her own.

“I’ve spoken to plenty of people!” he lies, “Since when am I under surveillance? I’m trying to be social! Who else is in on this?”

“All of IT, bitch, and you’re not talking to the right people. Call this your NPC guide. Go upstairs or I’m castrating you.”

Not really something he wants to test. “Alright. Which floor am I going to?” he asks, swallowing the rest of his drink when she tells him just the first floor. He can manage the stairs if the elevator is done for the day, like it probably should be. “Any more instructions to avoid castration?”

“Don’t fuck shit up. Please,” Wooyoung asks him very nicely, patting his shoulder and sending him on his way. This all feels very confusing, even by regular standards. He was sent to clear up malware last month that had been downloaded alongside some nightmarish porn game. He’d take that over this, he thinks. At least he knows what to do with malware. For all he knows, he’s being set up for an internet prank channel.

He pushes the door open with his shoulder, stopping still when he sees Hwaseong coming in through the front doors, cigarettes in hand. She stops like a deer in headlights. “What are you doing?” she asks, he’s hit with déjà vu. “Get back in there.”

“I’m- Wooyoung told me to go to the first floor,” Yunho argues, aware of how pathetic he sounds when the words leave his mouth. Hwaseong cocks her head, teasing a smirk. “Am I in trouble with everyone tonight? I’m only doing as I’m asked.”

“And if Wooyoung asked you to jump off a cliff, would you do that?” Hwaseong tuts, taking a few slow steps forward and leaning against her desk, beckoning him with a crook of her fingers. He shakes his head, walking forwards and planting his hands either side of her. “And if  _ I _ asked you?”

She’s smiling coyly, laughing when he does. “Are you asking me to stay away from the first floor?” he asks, leaning in when Hwaseong’s fingers graze over his throat, around to cup the back of his neck. “I thought-… I thought you’d left.”

Hwaseong pulls him into a kiss, chaste and calm, but his heart flutters all the same. He rests a hand at her waist, tracing his tongue over her sticky bottom lip when she runs her hands over his shoulders, kneading slowly. “Yunho,” she says softly, thumbing over his lip. “What have you been drinking?”

“That blue stuff,” Yunho whispers, laughing breathlessly when she grins. “What is it, by the way? Tasted pretty interesting.”

“Sapphire gin, mostly. Do you want to come upstairs with me, Yunho?” she asks, leaning back further against the thick crush of tinsel, basking. “Your present. I need to get it ready. It’s something you’ll like.”

He’s got a feeling he’d like anything Hwaseong presented him with. A dog, a loaf of bread, a bag of ping pong balls. She brushes over his cheek, pinching between her fingers and guiding him to nod. “Yes, I’d love to come upstairs with you, Hwaseong,” he affirms, he’s sobering up fast. He wants to kiss her again, badly. She stops him when he leans in.

“You go back in and wait, hm? Can’t have your palette cleanser just yet,” she purrs, buttoning his jacket at her waist and smiling. “I might keep this, if you don’t mind. It fits nicely.”

She’s wrong on plenty of levels, it’s closer to a collapsing blanket fort on her frame than any perfect fit, but he’s selfish enough to love seeing her wearing his blazer. “You keep it, honey. D’you want me to do anything while I wait, or-”

“Go and mingle, silly,” she teases, tapping her fingers over his temples, his forehead. “Have fun, talk. Make friends. Do you have friends?”

“I have friends,” Yunho tries to tickle Hwaseong’s waist through her layers, only managing a jab that makes her squawk. “I have plenty of friends!”

“Not IT?”

He fakes another jab, laughing when she swats at his hand. “Yes, not IT. Go on, go upstairs and prepare whatever ritual you need for your Christmas sacrifice.”

Hwaseong pulls him down with both hands on his head, kissing his cheek hard enough to hurt, and to smudge her gloss down to her chin. “You wouldn’t do anyway, no innocence in those bones. Like a big, horny work horse,” she hums, stepping around him and clacking across the foyer, towards the stairs. “You be good, make friends! I’ll text you! Keep an eye on your phone, I don’t like waiting.”

With that, she disappears beyond the heavy blue door to the stairwell, he can hear the beginning of her ascent before it huffs its way shut. Yunho picks up one of her snow globes, twirling it in his hand until Winnie and Piglet are embracing in a flurry. He chances the little crank, turning it and setting it down when it twinkles out a lullaby.

He heads back in through the doors as per Hwaseong’s instructions, sighing when he sees Yeonjun from the sales floor making a beeline for him, followed by Wooyoung, and Mingi. He’s half expecting everyone else in the room to just start beating him up. Scapegoat of the year.

“Don’t- ow!” he frowns when Yeonjun smacks his arm  _ hard _ , wincing when Wooyoung looks like she might do the same. Mingi offers an apologetic smile through a mouthful of cold pizza. Very soothing to the soul. “Hwaseong told me to come back in here and wait! Hello?!” he gestures to what he presumes should be a red lip print on his cheek, or at least a smudge, maybe. It could just be his bare cheek. Maybe he should’ve checked. Fuck.

Yeonjun takes the opportunity to get all up in his business to squint at his cheek. “I don’t know,” he frowns, apparently the head inspector of this investigation. “Could be anyone’s gloss. Hwaseong doesn’t own the rights to a red lip.”

“I mean, she basically does,” Mingi chimes in, dodging a swipe from Wooyoung. “Besides, do we really think Yunho’s some kind of pussy magnet? Look at him.”

“Hey-”

“He’s right,” Wooyoung decides, shrugging when Yunho glares at her. “He is! You look like a tired frat boy fresh from a three hour basketball practise at the best of times.”

“Oh my god, I’m so happy to wait outside if I’m gonna be thrashed,” Yunho groans, resting his hand against the door handle in threat. No one really moves to stop him. He stays out of spite. “If I’m so undesirable, how come Hwaseong’s interested in me, huh?”

“Bad taste,” Wooyoung and Mingi share a look of agreement.

“You’re all the worst. All of you. I’m walking away,” Yunho shuffles around the trio, dragging his bleeding pride to sidle up next to San, in the hopes he won’t drag him like every other member of his own traitorous department. “Help me. Kill me. I’m begging for death.”

San pulls him into his side, offering him a cup full of mulled wine. It’s not as bad as he’d expected, but it’s not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination. “What’s up, handsome?” he asks him, and it hits Yunho that really the only people being nice to him tonight are the drunk people. 

“I’m the victim of workplace bullying, San,” Yunho says solemnly, smiling when he looks worriedly at him. “I’m just not much of an office party guy. And I’m not really drunk enough to deal with people.”

“Do you want me to protect you from Wooyoung?” San offers with a wink, squeezing his waist when he nods. “Poor baby. There’s champagne, if you want. Not cheap, either; Changbin’s been going through it like it’s water. There’s gotta be something to toast!”

Yunho lets him pour a cup, triple checking that his phone isn’t on silent in his pocket, then sneaking a look at his lack of notifications. He feels like maybe this is the night he dies from anticipation. “Me and Hwaseong, actually,” he says quietly, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning at the reality of it all. “Might’ve kissed. Might be kissing her again soon.”

San presses the cup into his palm and beams at him. “Finally! Took you long enough, people have been betting on you,” he congratulates him, tapping his mulled wine to Yunho’s champagne and raising it to his lips. “Well done, you deserve it. Both of you. You take care of her.”

He scans the room as he sips at his champagne, the bubbles tickle his nose. There’s a good portion of Yeosang’s team that are visibly tipsy, including Yeosang himself. He’ll be able to slip away without too much of a talking point being made. Why he’s making strategies, he’s not sure. “Wait. People were betting?”

San’s moved on to pick at a plate of fruit, nodding as he bites into a slice of apple. “I didn’t, but most of my floor have had something to say about it,” he hums, smiling when Yunho makes a face. “It wasn’t for or against, if that’s anything. It’s been about when.”

“When what?”

“When you were both going to suck it up and get together. A lot of people had money on tonight. And I didn’t put  _ money _ on it, but I said Valentines.”

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Yes,” San nods, not prying when he pulls his phone from his pocket at lightning speed when it buzzes, a text from Hwaseong. Thank fuck. “But to be fair, it’s been both of you. She talks about you like you’re Midas.”

**Hwaseong**

_ Just now _

Come find your treasure before someone else does

He swallows the rest of his champagne, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “Does she really?” he asks despite himself, glancing at the clear path he has to the door. He’s going to hurl or something. San nods, busying himself with more fruit. “God. God, I’m lucky. I’m dying.”

“Go hook up, don’t keep a woman waiting,” San teases, patting his back as he heads back across the room to the door. The déjà vu of everything is going to kill him before his blood pressure does.

This is his first time taking the stairs in his eight months with the company, and he takes them two at a time until he almost manages to trip up them and has to cling to the bannister for a moment to stop himself from throwing up. This is worse than when he lost his virginity. Much worse. Horny seventeen year old Yunho has nothing on his yearning twenty eight year old self.

His welcome to the first floor is a Louboutin shoe, which is a lot in itself. Hwaseong’s been working the reception desk for a good long while, and apparently she can afford Louboutin shoes. How much does a secretary job pay? More than IT? How much are Louboutins, anyway? He’s getting carried away. It doesn’t matter. Fuck.

The shoe is in the middle of the corridor, its partner just a little further along. She’s left him a scavenger hunt, a treasure trail. Jesus. “Hwaseong?” he calls quietly, picking each shoe up as he reaches it, walking further when he spies her chunky white belt. This is either Hwaseong’s doing, or a murderer who’s got a grasp on how to lead people into traps.

When he thinks about it, being murdered by Hwaseong this close to Christmas wouldn’t be too bad. If he had to die by anyone’s hand, Hwaseong’s hands are especially nice ones. And she’d probably be nice about it. It’s a nice view to go out to, Hwaseong in any state, even a murderous one.

Anyway.

He collects her belt, then a black fishnet stocking, and another, until he’s standing beside her glitzy silver dress outside the cleaning supply closet. He clears his throat, picking her dress up and draping it over his forearm along with the rest of his collection of Hwaseong’s belongings. “Hwaseong?”

“Yunho, are you planning on coming in?” Hwaseong asks from behind the door, he can hear her nails tapping impatiently, “Because I’ve been waiting a very long time, and I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“Okay, I’m coming in,” Yunho decides, pushing the door open and peeking around it. Hwaseong’s settled in what looks like a camping chair, her left leg crossed over her right one, her fingers dipped under the lapel of his blazer. “Oh my god. Oh fuck. Hi.”

Hwaseong quirks a brow, glancing down at his arm and squinting. “You really picked all- Yunho, put them down,” she says softly. He sets them on a nearby shelf, over a box of more bleach than anyone would ever really need. Then again, it’s a cleaning supply closet. It’s not like it’s someone’s personal stash or anything. “Yunho.”

“Oh!” Yunho startles from his bleach induced daze, whipping around to face Hwaseong and smiling through his racing nerves. “Sorry, got distracted. I thought I saw something. You look really hot.”

She nods, unmoved by his admission (even if he sees her eyes gleam). “I know. Welcome to your present,” she hums, gesturing to a Hunger Games-esque bowl beside her, full of folded pieces of paper.

“…a bowl?”

Hwaseong squints. “What?”

“You got me a… fishbowl for Christmas?” Yunho glances between the bowl and Hwaseong, who looks about as confused as he feels. It’s not that it’s not welcome, it’s just that he doesn’t have any fish, and a bowl like that is pretty much exclusively for fish. Maybe he could use it for elaborate decorations. “Not that I’m not grateful! It’s very beautiful. I’ve been thinking about getting a goldfish, actually, this is-”

“No, Yunho, the bowl isn’t your present,” Hwaseong tuts, tapping her turquoise nail against the glass and reminding him of the paper inside. “How much have you had to drink? Look.”

“You got me paper?”

Hwaseong groans, plucking a piece of paper from the bowl and tossing it at him. It makes it halfway across the space between them, which is impressive, considering. “Don’t look at it,” Hwaseong says hastily when Yunho moves to pick it up, “It’s not paper. Well, it is, but it- fucking hell. Have you ever played a game in your life, Yunho?”

Yunho leans against a busted up filing cabinet, squinting right back at Hwaseong. “All I was told about was a present. I didn’t know I had to play some paper game to get it,” he argues, revelling in how her chest pinks beneath his blazer. “Alright, what’s the game? Where do you want me?”

“You’re ruining my lottery,” Hwaseong tuts, circling the rim of the bowl with the tip of a finger. She flutters her fluffy lashes, her eyelids shimmer. “Do you have your ticket?”

He doesn’t have anything close to a ticket, but he still checks his pockets in case something’s made its way into them. “I have a pack of gum, but that’s all,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek when Hwaseong sits back and breathes hard through her nose. “I didn’t know I needed any tickets! You told me what I was bringing was fine! Do you want my wallet? I can give you my wallet. Here, take my wallet.”

Hwaseong doesn’t move to take Yunho’s wallet when he extends it, instead glancing over him slowly. She reaches to pick up a glass of wine on the shelf behind her, taking a long drink. The constellation on the side of it lets him know it’s hers, unless she’s stolen it from another Aries. “No one gave you a ticket, did they?” she asks patiently, pressing her lips together when he shakes his head. “That’s okay. I’m feeling nice, you can have a free pull.”

“Can I exchange for another kiss?” he asks, warming when Hwaseong can’t hide a smile fast enough for him to miss it. He tucks his wallet back into his pocket, leaning down and planting his hands on the canvas arms of the camping chair. “I’m sorry I’m ruining your lottery. Can I make it up to you?”

“Not your fault. I told three people about giving you tickets, and they’ve all failed me. I work so long at a desk doing things for other people, you know, and I try once to rely on others, and the whole thing falls apart,” Hwaseong hums, sinking awkwardly into the chair and resting her cool hand over his, still holding her glass. “You’re so cute, Yunho. You don’t need to make anything up.”

Yunho sinks to his knees when his back starts protesting about his bending, settling between Hwaseong’s legs when she uncrosses them for him. He’s not getting a kiss any time soon, not with her lips as shiny as they are. “How do I play your lottery?” he asks, stroking along the side of her knee and pressing his lips to the rim of her glass when she offers it, sipping slowly. It’s a good red blend.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asks, smiling when he nods. “They’re all the same. They’re all for blowjobs. I really want to get my lips on your dick, Yunho.”

“Jesus,” Yunho huffs, resting his cheek against Hwaseong’s knee. It’s like she’s flipped a switch, because he’s definitely on his way to getting hard already. “How much have  _ you _ had to drink?”

Hwaseong laughs sharply, swiping her thumb over his cheek, and again, until he remembers their earlier kiss. “Don’t worry, I’m not drunk. You can breathalyse me, if you like. Give me something to put in my mouth,” she hums, giggling when Yunho groans. “I’d like to get a good mouthful. That can be your present for me.”

“My dick?” he sighs softly, pressing a kiss to Hwaseong’s toned thigh and rubbing her calf slowly. She sets her wine down beside the bowl, plucking three pieces of neatly folded paper and offering them to him to peek. They do in fact all confirm it, in so many words. He shifts to sit, swallowing when she moves to rest her foot at the inside of his thigh. “Well, fuck. Can I- how long has this been a thing? You being interested in me?”

“Um. Before Halloween, I think. The day you came to fix that virus and you bought me tea because I was stressed about losing my job because of a spam email,” Hwaseong says, leaning back and huffing when the canvas chair threatens to fight back. “You’re sexy in a homely way. That’s a compliment. I don’t find many men sexy beyond just looking. I haven’t dated a man in over a year.”

In the back of his mind, Yunho could argue that this isn’t a compliment at all. But he’s really hard, and Hwaseong’s got him hooked, and he can definitely live with being sexy in a homely way if it means he can date her. Or maybe eat her out. Or just kiss her again. Shaking her hand would also be a major bonus.

“You couldn’t just tell me?” he squints, rubbing down to dwell over her ankle, she’s smooth all the way down. “I’ve wanted to date you since I fucking started at this place.”

“Oh, and  _ you _ couldn’t tell  _ me _ ?” Hwaseong teases, shifting a little and humming when he squeezes at her Achilles tendon. “Am I allowed to get my present then? Or do you not want me to suck your dick? That’s fine. I can respect that-”

“Hwaseong, I’m not going to  _ ask _ ,” he takes his hands away before he can start fawning too hard, always one to turn to sap after a few drinks. “I can’t just ask you to suck my dick for Christmas. And I’m respectfully declining the lottery system.”

Hwaseong pouts, picking her glass back up and draining the contents through wild motioning. “Stand,” she instructs when Yunho doesn’t move, a trickle of wine spills beyond her lips and down her throat. He’s dizzy when he stands. All his blood is going straight to his dick. “Oh my god. You’re evil. Look at you!”

He blushes hard, the remaining blood finally has something to do – shame him. Hwaseong returns the glass haphazardly when it’s empty, pushing herself out of the chair to kneel in one silky fluid motion. “All this talk about your mouth on my dick is like- it’s a lot, Hwaseong,” he argues, moving to lean back against a shelving unit to give his hands something to do. She’s looking at his blatant erection like it’s about to start spilling gold. “Hwaseong.”

She pulls his belt open hastily, looking up at him when he taps her forehead. “Yes?” she grins like a Cheshire cat, her gloss has stayed clear of her pearly white teeth. She taps over his button with a long fingernail, coaxing it open when he doesn’t challenge her. “What is it? We can stop. I need a drink, a good one. We can just go for a drink, if you want to stop. Or we can go back downstairs and be nice and party. I won’t take offence.”

Yunho huffs a laugh, stroking a hand through her caramel blonde hair and pushing it to the side where it’s started falling into her vision. She’s curled it to perfection, bouncing with enthusiasm when she moves her head. He misses her silver hair, but this is her third new look since he’s known her. “I don’t want you to stop,” he murmurs, cradling her face as she pulls his zipper down. “Is here really the best place for this?”

“What isn’t sexy about a closet?” Hwaseong hums, pulling his jeans down to his knees and giving up on the struggle. “You have strong thighs. Like tree trunks. Nice and thick.”

“Go easy on me, I’m already piling on Christmas weight. Winter makes me pack it on like one of those bears ready for hibernation,” Yunho rests back against the shelves when he’s sure he won’t knock anything, watching Hwaseong unbutton his blazer and slide it down her slender shoulders. It piles on the floor in a ruffling of fabric, he looks away before he can let himself stare. “You can keep that. Keep anything. You can still take my wallet, if-”

Hwaseong’s tongue against the fabric of his briefs inspires him to shut up, licking long and slow over the outline of his cock. “I like thick,” she says in a pause, Yunho looks down to see her looking up at him. Her eyes are wide and brown and hungry, her tongue is still definitely hot against his emerald green underwear. “I made you wear these jeans because they make you look thick. I’m selfish.”

“Good. I want you to be selfish,” Yunho hums, sighing contentedly when Hwaseong’s fingers hook the elastic of his briefs, pulling them down like they’ve got all the time in the world. “I don’t wanna mess your lip gloss up.”

“Didn’t stop you from kissing me,” Hwaseong purrs, her eyes haven’t left his cock since she pushed his briefs down, leaning forward and pressing a sparkling kiss to his already wet slit, darting her tongue out before kneeling back comfortably and gazing up at him. Yunho melts under her gaze, biting his bottom lip and groaning when she wraps a hand around the base of his cock, pumping slowly and watching as he fights the urge to thrust into her hand and whimper. “You sure you want me to-”

“Yes,” Yunho breathes, his heart thrumming when she giggles warmly at his apparent desperation, lapping slowly at the head of his cock and swirling her tongue slowly, settling closer once again and guiding him forward with a hand at the back of his thigh. “Do you want me to... do you wanna be in control, or?”

Hwaseong licks a long, wet stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, spitting messily and pumping his length until her hand glides easily. “Do you think you can handle being in control, baby?” she teases, glancing up at him with a gleam in her eyes as she presses his cock flat against her tongue. Yunho grips feather lightly at her hair, shuddering when she closes her plump lips around his cock, fluttering her lashes as she sinks down and takes him halfway into her mouth. 

Her tongue wraps deftly around the underside of his cock, she pauses for a moment as Yunho gives up on his internal debate over control, gladly surrendering to Hwaseong and her warm, wet mouth. “Please,” he whispers when she doesn’t move after a few more moments, heart soaring when she giggles softly around him and moves her head down slowly. Her hands rest comfortably at the backs of his thighs, squeezing and lightly digging her nails into his flesh until he hisses softly. “Oh, fuck, Hwaseong…”

Her eyes flutter closed after a few slow dips of her head, unphased by the hand that stays securely gripping her hair, doing nothing in the form of guiding or controlling. It’s almost second nature to let Hwaseong take over, his spare hand resting back against the shelves to steady himself when her tongue swirls over his tip, pressing lightly at his slit. 

Hwaseong guides his hips forward with firm hands, drawing Yunho to fuck slowly into her mouth until he can feel the head of his cock at the back of her throat. She barely reacts, offering quiet moans of approval when he eases his hips back and pushes forwards again, his hand in her hair helping to steady himself. 

“God, you’re so perfect,” Yunho breathes as Hwaseong’s tongue flicks and wraps around his cock expertly, working him ever closer to the edge and all too quickly. Her lashes flutter to allow brief glances between them, her cheeks flushing when Yunho can’t help the soft noises of need that fall from his lips, keening and needy. “You’re... Hwaseong, fuck, please…”

She pulls off after a few more nudges of his hips, panting lightly and licking at the milky white string of saliva that clings to her bottom lip, her gloss only barely smudged. “You’re close already, baby?” she purrs, her tone almost teasing as she presses her tongue at Yunho’s slit, wrapping her lips around the head and sucking slowly at the beads of precum until he’s fighting whimpers. “You wanna cum down my throat? Or-”

“Please,” Yunho says quickly, his face heating up when Hwaseong hums and sinks her head down again, fluttering her eyes closed and barely flinching when his hips twitch forwards. Instead of pulling back, she stays still for a moment, making a soft noise of impatience until Yunho gathers what she’s waiting for. He draws his hips back, gripping gently at her hair as he thrusts forward and groans, fucking into her mouth as she stays settled and comfortable on her knees. “Hwaseong, I’m so fucking close, please... a-ah, fuck!”

He gasps shakily as he tilts over the edge, his hips jolting through his orgasm when Hwaseong doesn’t pull away, swallowing around him and fucking  _ giggling _ when all he can do is whimper through it. He slumps back awkwardly against the shelves, panting and breathing out a laugh when Hwaseong pulls off him and presses a kiss to the tip of his cock. “You’re so cute,” she beams, licking over her lips and gazing up at him, wide eyed and breathtaking. “Such a sweetheart, Jeong Yunho, hmm~”

Yunho groans softly as he leans fully back against the shelves, yelping when his attempt to pull his own briefs up is halted by a smack to his hands. “I should, um…” he stalls for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his intent in a way that isn’t completely unsexy. “I wanna return the favour, Hwaseong. Please?”

“Hm, only because you asked so nicely,” Hwaseong purrs as she eases Yunho’s briefs up, making no motion to hurry as she pulls his jeans up and closed, lips forming an idle pout as she toys with his zipper. “Not here, though. I want another drink in me, something that won’t strip my insides of their colour. You’ve been to the bar down the street, right?”

Only once has Yunho braved The Filter, a night that almost cost him as much in bodily fluids as it did in cash. “Uh. Yeah, I’ve been,” he nods, offering his hands and helping to pull Hwaseong to stand in one fluid motion. The button of his blazer is half loose at her middle, she nods in permission when his fingers ghost over it, easing it open and allowing it to fall. “Oh, fuck…”

Left in nothing but her underwear, Hwaseong giggles when Yunho does a bad job of trying not to stare at her breasts, her nipples perky and visible through the sheer lace of her bralette. If he looks hard enough, he can see what almost looks like little metal bars through them, a thought powerful enough to make his knees weak. 

“I have another dress I wanna get into, baby. You can help, right?” she purrs, taking Yunho’s hands and guiding them to her little waist, making a noise of contentment when his palms swallow the slight curves of her body. He squeezes lightly, glad to follow until her back is against the shelves, his body pressed close against hers. He leans down to press a kiss to her lips, trailing his hands up and over her breasts, thumbing over her nipples and kissing her again when she moans quietly. “Yunho-yah, are you going to be good and help me?”

“Isn’t this helping?” he teases, smiling when Hwaseong visibly fights the urge to smile and pulling back finally, watching as she lifts a bag from the shelf. The dress she pulls from inside it is unsurprisingly gorgeous, red lace that matches closely with the bralette she’s wearing and  _ very _ form fitting when she slips into it, turning and lifting her hair for Yunho to ease the zipper up. “Can’t believe you brought a dress change to an office party.”

“Life’s too short to be boring,” Hwaseong beams, shimmying a little when Yunho’s done with the zip and turning to kiss him quickly, pushing up onto her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Just one drink, that’s all I want. You don’t have to get me off if-”

“I want to,” Yunho says firmly, blushing when she smiles and nudges her nose against his, wrapping his arms around her waist to draw her close. “I definitely want to.”

“Good. I figured as much.”

**Author's Note:**

> [following me on twitter is your free gift this year!](http://twitter.com/gaywooyoungie)


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